


Hate Sex

by occasional_boy_reporter



Series: Kinktober 2018 [7]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Mild Language, Warlord!AU, pussy slapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: Kinktober Day 8





	Hate Sex

**Author's Note:**

>  Hate sex with Warlord!Zavala and Nomad!Cayde. Yes. Yes, thank you for this prompt. This AU and all its rough sex has been on my back burner forever but here's a taste of the dynamic to come.

 

 “If you want your people to fall under my protection, then you _will_ follow my rules,” Zavala grits out the most basic condition of their arrangement for what must be the dozenth time since Cayde and his band of nomads crashed through the northern border weeks ago. “And high on that list of rules is the one that forbids anyone from leaving the keep without my permission.”

  Cayde chokes, throat constricting around the Awoken cock rammed deep and triggering the release of more oral lubricant than he can swallow. Zavala isn't particularly worried about lack of air for an Exo, even less concerned for an Exo who can be revived. What's important is that Cayde _learns_ from his latest unauthorized excursion beyond the walls _._

“You are not a guest who can come and go as you please. You will ask for my permission. Understood?”

  Cayde's eyes are bright as he glares up. Always defiant.

  Zavala withdraws and finishes himself with a few swift strokes. Thick ropes of white splatter and stretch across blue plating while Cayde grunts and bunches the leather covering his knees in shaking fists. Restraint is something new for Cayde. Normally, he'd be cursing Zavala's name and ancestry by this point.

  “Stand,” Zavala orders, breathless around the edges as he strokes out the last few drops. “Then turn around.”

  Cayde complies but he does so with a deliberate slowness that has Zavala clenching his jaw. The Awoken takes matters into his own hands and hauls Cayde to his feet.

  “Hands on the wall,” he growls as he bends the Exo with a rough grip on the back of his neck and kicks his legs open to give the nomad no choice unless he wants to faceplant.

  “Son of a bitch,” Cayde finally hisses when Zavala wrenches open his fly. It's not the ripped seam or the stretched laces, it's the fondling of the fully erect cock beneath that finally sets off that metal mouth. “You’re a self-centered asshole!”

  “You're a liability in my home.”

  Zavala borrows the knife hidden in Cayde's left boot and cuts leather away when he realizes Cayde's legs are spread too far to simply shimmy pants down. The knife clatters against the floor when Zavala discards it carelessly to use both hands to spread the wet lips of Cayde's cunt.

  “F-fuck you,” Cayde pants when Zavala drags three fingers through welling lube and stretches forward to rub them along a silicone cock. “Fuck you!”

  “Ask me.”

  “What?”

  “For permission. Ask me if you can come.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  A wet smack echoes around the room and Zavala's palm comes away sticky. Cayde swallows a grunt but his fingers scratch the wood of Zavala's bedroom wall and swollen, black lips convulse around an escaping bead of lube.

  “Ask.”

  Wood splinters around steel and Cayde's horn _thunks_ as it collides with the wall. “No."

  Zavala strikes again. Harder and sharper on the third and the forth slap.

  “Ask!”

  Cayde remains stubbornly tight-lipped despite the growl that turns into a whimper when the tip of a finger slips inside.

  “Fine.” Zavala pulls away after one quick thrust up to the knuckle that leaves Cayde gasping. He wipes his finger on the curve of Cayde's ass and takes a seat on the other side of the room.

   The Exo struggles for a moment, confused by the sudden absence of force and weight until Zavala's new distance really settles in and then...

   “Fucker! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Cayde's agitation burns the room and Zavala teases his own cock to the heat of mutual hatred as he waits.

  “That's the wrong question.”

  


End file.
